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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453022">Stocking Stuffers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys'>holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ALL THE FLUFF, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Sloppy Seconds, Team as Family, Threesome - M/M/M, pregnancy reveal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm finds a reason to celebrate Christmas this year, and he tries to make it special for his partners, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>AKA the early Christmas fic I am writing because it's a certain beautiful someone's birthday today!! &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stocking Stuffers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/gifts">Twice_before_Friday</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear Friday, </p>
<p>I hope today's a bomb ass day across the board. I've had this fic planned for a long time and been SO eager to get it out to you, because I love ya &lt;3&lt;3 </p>
<p>(imagine a <i>very</i> long string of boohearts here ;) )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, <em>you’re </em>certainly cheery this year,” his mother says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. </p>
<p>To her credit, Malcolm hasn’t exactly been big on the holidays — any of them — since that night in ‘98. She definitely tried to get him involved. <em>Oh</em>, she tried. She outdid herself on decorations every year, planned beautiful dinners, bought all of the best gifts and had them wrapped to perfection. Ainsley believed in Santa for ages longer than most of her peers, having grown up while their mother was busy going all out, even going as far as to pay one of the drivers to set up the gifts in costume Christmas Eve night. </p>
<p>Malcolm just… couldn’t get into the spirit. Not after the collapse of his family. He opened his presents and nibbled on his Christmas dinner. He ate candy canes and gingerbread men prepared by the cooks. He even went to church with Gil a few times, quiet and dressed impeccably, especially for a young teen. </p>
<p>So the fact that he’s asking her about where she gets her decorations is odd. He knows it is, but she hasn’t changed her style up in years, and he wants to fill his own home with the trappings of his childhood — the good parts, anyway. </p>
<p>“I’m in a good place,” he offers as a half answer. And he is. He’s in a great place. This Christmas will be his second with his partners. The second one where they <em>are </em>partners in every meaning of the word, to be more specific. It took nearly a year for him, Gil, and JT to stop stepping around each other and talk about what was there and another few months for them to actually figure out how they wanted to do it. That first Christmas, their relationship was still new. They celebrated quietly with small gifts and dinner in at the loft. It was… nice.</p>
<p>This year, Malcolm has much grander plans. </p>
<p>“I’m glad to hear that, dear, but you <em>can’t </em>tell me this isn’t out of character for you.” Her forehead is creased in concern. She fiddles with an earring, struggling to get the backing on as she glances at him over her shoulder in the mirror. </p>
<p>He shrugs and smiles. “If you’d rather keep your secrets, I’m sure I can find my own decorations.”</p>
<p>With a sigh, his mother turns around in her seat. “Nonsense. I’ll make a list, <em>but</em>,” she says pointing at him and giving him her best stern look, “I expect you to tell me what’s gotten into you eventually.”</p>
<p>“When I’m ready,” he agrees. It’s not as if he wasn’t going to already. She just won’t be the first to know. “Thank you, mother.”</p>
<p>He leaves with a list. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s hard to plan a surprise like this one when you live with the two people you intend on surprising. It’s even harder when those two people are the Lieutenant and his second-in-command from the NYPD’s Major Crimes unit, so Malcolm doesn’t bother trying. (At least not with the <em>whole </em>thing.) He leaves the list out on the kitchen island while he orders takeout from their favorite place. </p>
<p>Gil and JT walk through the door just behind the delivery woman. Perfect timing. They’re grateful for the food, especially since it’s often up to one of them to make dinner. </p>
<p>Malcolm brings three plates to the island and sits right between them, as always. He knows from Gil’s phone call earlier that the day was tedious for the two of them, and in a way, he’s begrudgingly happy he didn’t have to go in. </p>
<p>“What’s this?” JT picks the piece of thick paper up with the hand that doesn’t have chopsticks in it. </p>
<p>Gil’s gaze drifts to Malcolm. “Something from Jessica?” </p>
<p>Malcolm hums around his lo mein, finishing up what’s caught on his chopsticks before answering. “I figured we’d decorate this year.” He glances at both of them. “Since we’re living together this Christmas.”</p>
<p>“As long as you don’t go overboard, city boy,” Gil says, grinning. He’s clearly feeling less suspicious than Malcolm’s mother was, but Malcolm knows him better than to think he’s not surprised, too. It likely also helps that he used to do quite a lot, too. Mostly for Malcolm, probably, though Gil certainly enjoyed it more than he had at the time. From the Christmas cards he used to send with Jackie, he kept it up for her once Malcolm moved away.</p>
<p>It’s JT that Malcolm is more concerned about. He knows the detective has a big family, that he still keeps in touch with the majority of them, that he does the holiday song and dance for them. How he <em>really </em>feels about it himself is more of a mystery. </p>
<p>Picking up more noodles, Malcolm smiles a genuine smile. “I promise this won’t be the Whitly house 2.0.” Gil and JT won’t truly understand until after Christmas, he knows, and they’ll be even happier that he managed to pick up some amount of holiday cheer. </p>
<p>“If you stay away from the oven, we’re good,” JT cuts in, shaking his head. He’s joking, but his words are sincere. He’s okay with it. Really.</p>
<p>As for his comment on the oven, well, to be fair, there’s a reason Malcolm doesn’t do much of the cooking in their house. He snorts. “Don’t worry, JT.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another reason it would be difficult to hide the decorations is that it takes him <em>weeks </em>to get everything set up. Some of the decorations come in quickly, others take their time, and, unlike his mother, Malcolm doesn’t hire a team of people to put them up to his specifications. He carefully gets onto the stepstool to hang garland along the walls. He tugs at the big red bows that attach to them until they’re even on both sides and poofed <em>just </em>enough. He fiddles with the wreath on the main door for several long minutes before deciding it’s centered and well-balanced. </p>
<p>(The ones on the windows get just as much attention.)</p>
<p>Their tablecloth — on the table they don’t use unless they’re having company, no less — is switched out for a rich green one, matching napkins folded in the cabinet and red-striped candles arranged in the center. The record player in the corner of the living room gets a new stack of holiday records. A delicately carved angel figurine goes on the mantle along with a miniature nativity scene he bought specifically for Gil. Even the curtains around the house are swapped with green ones, lit up at night by battery-powered candles on the sill.</p>
<p>It’s beautiful, festive, and <em>theirs</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s just under two weeks before Christmas when he and JT are lying in bed, one of Malcolm’s legs thrown over JT, his softened cock nestled against his partner’s hip. Light from the streetlamps outside trickles in through the window, slightly obscured by a light curtain of snow. There’s a clatter of sounds from the attached bathroom as Gil cleans up.</p>
<p>“You done?” JT murmurs, playing with his hair. </p>
<p>Malcolm sighs against his chest. “All that’s left is the tree.”</p>
<p>“Something tells me you’re not talking about a fake one.” There’s wry amusement in his voice, thankfully. So far, he and Gil have been <em>very </em>accepting of Malcolm’s sudden need to celebrate the holidays. </p>
<p>“I was thinking we’d get a real one.” They always had a real one at the Whitly house, even before his father was caught. He knows he can’t have one as tall or as grand as his mother undoubtedly will, but it’s the last piece of his Christmas puzzle. There’s already a box of beautiful handmade ornaments sitting against the wall by the fireplace just waiting to be used. </p>
<p>That’s the first thing he wants to do differently, too. The tree at his childhood home was always decorated by the staff. Sure, they saved one or two ornaments for him and Ainsley to put up, but the majority of it was treated as just another decoration rather than any sort of bonding moment. Malcolm plans to wrangle both his partners into helping him hang those ornaments, even if he has to promise to stay back and let them go into crime scenes first for the next few weeks. </p>
<p>It’ll only be a short couple of months before he won’t be doing that much anymore anyway. He can concede this time.</p>
<p>When Gil comes back, it’s with a light slap at Malcolm’s bare ass. “What’re you two going on about?” He gently wipes at Malcolm’s swollen hole with a washcloth. </p>
<p>“Tree shopping,” JT answers for him, sitting up and grabbing the other cloth to clean his cock and Malcolm’s stomach off. “Our boy here wants a real one.”</p>
<p>Gil hums. “Jessica always gets one.” Letting JT bring the dirty cloths back to the bathroom, he settles into bed and drapes himself over Malcolm’s back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, kid, but I think it’s a good thing.”</p>
<p>Malcolm reaches up and grasps his arm. “It is. Promise, Gil.” He turns his head back for a kiss. </p>
<p>“Then we’ll go out and get one next time we have a night off,” Gil says easily, fondly. “That sound good to you?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Boss,” JT says as he finds his place again. He turns off the light and throws the covers over the three of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes three days for them to have the time to go to the tree farm. They have to rent a truck, because Gil’s muscle car is much too small to <em>really </em>put a tree on, and besides, Malcolm and JT both know he’d rather not even try to strap anything to it for fear of messing up the paint job. </p>
<p>JT drives it, because apparently he’s used to handling bigger vehicles. He likes this one, too, despite the face he makes when he finds out what the purchase price on this model is, and Malcolm makes a note of it. Neither of his partners like Malcolm spending gross amounts of money on them. For the most part, he’s okay with that. Understanding, even. </p>
<p>But they’ll need a more modern car soon enough. He might as well buy one that JT will enjoy driving. </p>
<p>They have to park a good walk from the car. It’s chilly that night, snow on the grass and slush on the streets, the tips of Malcolm’s ears turning red. Gil wraps an arm around his shoulders and purposefully steers him away from the larger trees that catch his eye. While Malcolm logically knows one that size won’t fit in their house, it doesn’t stop him from looking. Gil keeps him on track. </p>
<p>“How does this one look?” Malcolm says, tilting his head at the one in front of him. Maybe he should have done more research, because, honestly? He’s not sure what he’s looking for beyond basic appearance.</p>
<p>JT takes one look at it and shakes his head. “Nah, I bet we can find a fuller one.” </p>
<p>The next one apparently isn’t healthy enough.</p>
<p>The one after that leans a touch, so Malcolm vetoes it himself. </p>
<p>Gil insists the one after that is <em>too </em>full, that it would take up the entire corner of the living room if they took it home. </p>
<p>In the end, JT finds the best one. It’s short enough to fit in their house and carry a tree topper. It’s also full without being too wide, and he promises Malcolm they’ll be able to slot plenty of ornaments on its branches. </p>
<p>“I haven’t had a tree since Jackie,” Gil confesses as he and Malcolm wait for JT, the tree propped up between them. </p>
<p>Malcolm looks at him through the branches. “I never bothered when I was with the Bureau. I didn’t even have one last year, remember?”</p>
<p>Gil makes a soft sound. “I didn’t notice.” He chuckles. “You <em>did </em>put a bow on Sunshine’s cage. I remember that.” </p>
<p>He did. A big bright bow on the pole of her cage. He bought her a tiny Santa hat, too, but she wasn’t terribly fond of it and wouldn’t keep it on for long enough for him to get a photo. Malcolm makes a mental note to put another bow on her cage this year. He has spares left over. Maybe he’ll even wrap some garland around the base. Get her a tiny stocking he can fill with treats and toys. He doesn’t want her to feel left out.</p>
<p>(There’s a small stocking hidden in one of the bottom drawers in his desk, but that one won’t get hung until after presents are exchanged.)</p>
<p>JT double parks and hits the emergency lights before climbing out of the truck. He and Gil carry most of the weight of the tree as they load it into the back, but they humor Malcolm, who insists on gripping the middle of it, branches brushing up against his face. </p>
<p>He really does love his partners. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It actually takes all three of them to put the tree up. Mostly, Malcolm directs them through the house, mentally cursing their decision to go with a more closed floor plan when they moved in together, but the tree fits in the corner of the living room beautifully. </p>
<p>Gil wipes his forehead with the back of a hand as JT kneels down and checks to make sure the trunk is secure in the base. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to wait a few nights to decorate, huh, kid?”</p>
<p>To be fair, Malcolm <em>has </em>done everything else on his own time. But he shakes his head. “I’d like to do it together.”</p>
<p>“Good,” JT groans, getting to his feet and brushing a few stray needles off his shoulders. “I’ve got a box of some stuff somewhere. Family pieces.”</p>
<p>“Sounds perfect,” Malcolm says, because it does. Family. Tradition. He shied away from the idea of both for a long while, but he wants them as long as these two men are by his side. </p>
<p>Gil wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. “Maybe tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tomorrow becomes the day after and then three days after that. They get a case involving decapitation of all things, which Malcolm finds thrilling if not mildly disturbing to see in person, and hanging baubles on the tree seems unimportant in comparison. </p>
<p>Especially when the first head was found under a very elegantly decorated tree.</p>
<p>(“It’s beautiful,” Edrisa murmured, her face against the floor as she inspected the severed neck best she could without disturbing it yet.</p>
<p>“It is.” Malcolm crouched down next to her and gently moved a branch out of his line of sight. The delicate glass ornament hanging on the one above it tinkled with the shift, jostled from its perch, and slipped. He caught it with an audible hitch in his breathing just before it hit the bright red bow perched on their vic’s hair. “Whoops.”</p>
<p>JT snorted. “Good catch, bro.”)</p>
<p>Malcolm ducks out from underneath JT’s arm, giving him a kiss as an apology, and opens the first box of ornaments. It’s a small one, because they’re not his. Not the ones he ordered. They’re the ornaments JT mentioned. </p>
<p>JT reaches around him and plucks the first one out. It’s a little handmade frame made from popsicle sticks and decorated to look like a gingerbread house. Inside is a picture of him, his parents, and his siblings. There’s a wonky JT scribbled on the back. “Made this one when I was six,” he says gruffly. </p>
<p>“It’s cute,” Malcolm assures him. </p>
<p>JT gently puts it back into the box and waves off Malcolm’s attempted objection. “We have to string the lights up first.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Malcolm says, feeling a bit stupid because it’s kind of obvious, “right.” He never had to think about <em>how </em>to decorate at the Whitly house.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it, city boy.” With a wide smile, Gil hands him the first string. It’s already lit up, plugged in at the closest socket. “I think you’re the only one who can get back there.” He nods over at the tree, which, while not right up against the wall, doesn’t have enough space for someone of Gil or JT’s bulk to fit behind.</p>
<p>Malcolm, though, is the <em>perfect </em>size. Taking the lights, thankfully wound on a roll and decidedly not tangled, being fresh out of the box, he carefully rests the first foot along the branches at the bottom of the tree. </p>
<p>Gil tucks them back farther. “Not so loose,” he suggests. </p>
<p>So, inching back along the wall, Malcolm winds the string of lights around the tree. He moves a little faster when he’s not stuck between it and the wall, and whenever he needs another string, Gil or JT is there waiting. He lets JT tuck the end of the last one up in the branches by the top, hiding it in underneath all the green. </p>
<p>JT puts up the star, too. It’s a classic eight-pronged star with tapered edges and visible ridges done all in shining gold. The base of it is a thick coil of silver wire that cages the very top of their tree where it perches. </p>
<p>Despite being similar enough to the star the Whitlys used when Malcolm was young, it’s actually Gil’s. Or Jackie’s, rather. Gil happened to have it yet, and so it goes on their tree. Neither JT nor Malcolm objected when he brought it out.</p>
<p>(Malcolm remembers being a teenager sitting criss-cross on the floor in Gil’s living room and delicately opening a handful of presents as the couple handed them to him, that same star above him.)</p>
<p>“Why don’t you go first,” Malcolm says, smiling at JT, looking at the still open box of his on top of the ones Malcolm ordered.</p>
<p>JT grabs the same one he pulled out before. He hands it to Malcolm without any fuss and takes another out. This one is a simple round ball with a hand-painted date — JT’s birth date. That one goes to Gil. The third ornament is a little angel, and JT hangs that one up himself. </p>
<p>Malcolm ends up putting the picture right in the front of the tree. He knows how important JT’s family is to him, and, privately, he makes a note to have a similar ornament made for the three — <em>four </em>— of them. Maybe for next year. He bites back a smile. </p>
<p>The next set of ornaments are the ones he bought. Gil may have held onto the star, but nothing else made it through his grief. He doesn’t seem too bothered tonight, however, his eyes crinkled and his lips upturned as the three of them move around each other with all different shapes of ornaments. They fill in the empty spaces, leaving just enough that the tree doesn’t hurt to look at without being bare. </p>
<p>JT even hangs up the stockings on a set of small overhanging hooks Malcolm bought for the fireplace. They’re knitted pieces striped in festive colors. Each one has a name embroidered along the cuff. </p>
<p>There’s nothing in those stockings yet, and Malcolm suspects both of his partners assume they’re for decoration only. It takes all of the willpower he can muster to keep his face straight, to not give any hint. He knows better than to give <em>either </em>of them a clue.</p>
<p>(Privately, he wonders if he’s becoming more like his mother. Maybe he’ll be the one throwing elaborate Christmas parties in a few years’ time.

Or maybe not, on second thought.)</p>
<p>Gil drags Malcolm to the couch as soon as they’re done, tugging him down until he’s curling up against his side in front of the tree. <em>Their </em>tree. </p>
<p>Instead of joining them, JT pads out to the kitchen for a few minutes. He returns with three mugs of instant hot chocolate. Malcolm’s is, of course, topped with an insane amount of whipped cream. </p>
<p>Malcolm hums as he takes it. The ceramic is warm against his palms, and he cradles it there, knowing the hot chocolate is much too hot to drink yet. He does open his mouth and lick the peak off of the melting cream, sighing happily. It’s even better when JT settles down next to him and lets him tuck his cold feet beneath his thigh. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything is ready. The house is littered with tasteful decorations. The tree is set up, decorated, and lights up the living room every night. All of Malcolm’s gifts for his partners are wrapped and arranged on the tree skirt with care or tucked into the stockings. Sunshine has one, too, now, with her name embroidered in gold.</p>
<p>But Malcolm locks the door behind him and joins his partners at the curb. They have places to be tonight, places they promised they’d go. First up is his mother’s for dinner. He knows Ainsley will be there, too, and it would be <em>highly </em>unacceptable for him not to show up with both JT and Gil despite never actually agreeing to go. He’s expected to be there unless he’s holed up in a hospital room.</p>
<p>Usually, he wouldn’t mind so much. He does like spending time with his mother and sister even if there’s always a measure of badgering about his career choices and his health. This time, however, his mind is focused on what he’s tucked into two of the stockings on the mantle. </p>
<p>JT takes his hand as they wait at the door, squeezes once before Jessica is flinging it open and pulling all three of them into hugs. </p>
<p>“Come in, come in,” she says, makeup done to perfection, her hair curled and pinned back, a beautiful black dress hugging her curves. The entry hall behind her is just as ready for the occasion. There are small trees decorated with baubles of different sizes in silver and gold, and the long rug leading in from the door has been swapped for a matching one. Big, crisp bows hang along the walls. </p>
<p>Malcolm knows from experience the biggest, most elaborate tree will be in the living room.</p>
<p>The dining room is also decked out. Ainsley, dressed in a dark green suit, waves from her place at the table, her phone up to her ear. “Of course I can, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see you in an hour, tops.” </p>
<p>Their mother sighs. “<em>Really</em>, dear? On Christmas Eve?”</p>
<p>“I’ll stick around for a quick dinner,” Ainsley promises. “But coverage on the Chester party fell through, and my boss asked as a personal favor.”</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose that’s acceptable,” Jessica says, perking up a bit. Not too much, though, because Malcolm already made it clear they would have to leave soon after dinner in order to swing by the precinct for some short festivities there, and that means she’ll be alone for the rest of the night.</p>
<p>Ainsley grins. “I <em>am </em>allowed a plus one.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s eat already!”</p>
<p>Malcolm stifles a smile as he takes his seat between his partners. They’re all dressed smartly but not too formal. The precinct will be a much more casual thing, after all, especially since poor Edrisa is working tonight and will undoubtedly be wearing her scrubs the entire time. Still, he’s in a well-tailored suit as always. It won’t be too long before he has to give up his slim silhouette. </p>
<p>(He finds he’s excited at the prospect.)</p>
<p>Dinner is a flurry of roasted Cornish game hens, candied sweet potatoes, and brussel sprouts. It’s heavy and filling and delicious. Malcolm himself puts away a fairly large serving of sweet potatoes, but no one thinks twice about it. They <em>are </em>candied.</p>
<p>“I’ll have the kitchen pack some up for you three,” his mother says, delicately carving some meat off the half a hen on her plate. “<em>Oh! </em>And dessert, too. I’m afraid we won’t have time for it tonight, but I had them make your favorite, dear.”</p>
<p>Malcolm pops another bite of sweet potato in his mouth. “Thank you, Mother.” His favorite cranberry cake with plenty of glaze… he begrudgingly makes a mental note to bring some in for Dani and Edrisa and set some aside for JT and Gil. He knows the two of them will let him have the bulk of it otherwise. </p>
<p>“So,” she starts up again, “have you given any more thought to giving me grandchildren?” </p>
<p>Gil coughs, only avoiding choking on a brussel sprout by having expected this line of questioning again. He no doubt remembers back when it started, when Malcolm was in college and going out of his way to <em>not </em>be in a relationship. “Some, yes, but nothing’s set in stone,” he says once he’s swallowed. </p>
<p>It’s not a lie, not really. They have talked about it, and they decided they want children. They just haven’t started <em>actively </em>trying. Malcolm went off his birth control, they all stopped using condoms, and it became a matter of what happens, happens. None of them wanted to get their hopes up between Malcolm’s health and the stress of the job. </p>
<p>Malcolm sips his sparkling water slowly, not commenting. </p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll be one of the first to know,” Gil continues and shares a look with JT, whose family is also on the quick call list there. </p>
<p>“You said something about dessert?” Dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, Malcolm sets it down to his mostly empty plate. His silverware is already propped up next to the remainder of his hen.</p>
<p>They leave with a whole loaf cake and half of another to share at the precinct. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s taken years, but, when they walk through the desks to get back to Gil’s office, it’s not just him and JT getting friendly waves and nods. Malcolm, comfortably stuck between them, gets a handful of polite greetings that he awkwardly returns. </p>
<p>He’s still very relieved to close the door behind them. </p>
<p>JT takes the plate of cake from him and sets it on the desk.</p>
<p>“I’ll go let Edrisa know we’re here,” Gil murmurs, leaving but not before giving Malcolm a soft kiss. </p>
<p>JT waits until the door latches. “You feeling okay?” His gaze is concerned, piercing. </p>
<p>Malcolm shrugs. “I’m tired,” he admits. He probably ate too much at his mother’s. He still wants cake, still <em>craves </em>it, and it’s probably a good thing that his cravings so far have aligned well with his normal tastes. Otherwise, there would be no way of hiding them. The food sits heavy in his stomach, though, weighing him down and making him feel sleepy. </p>
<p>JT gives him an assessing look.</p>
<p>“How about I promise to tell you later?”</p>
<p>“How about tonight?” Dropping down in one of the chairs, JT sighs. “You’ve been tired more often lately, man. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”</p>
<p>Malcolm ducks his head. “I can do tonight.” He can. He was already <em>planning </em>to. “Please don’t worry about me, JT.”</p>
<p>“I think I’ll always be worrying about you,” JT jokes warmly, though there’s still concern in the way he holds himself. “Gil, too. I’m pretty sure <em>you </em>gave him all those grays.”</p>
<p>There’s a knock at the door. It opens before either of them can say anything, and Dani is peeking her head in. She slips through, closing it behind her, and hops up to sit on the edge of Gil’s desk. There’s a bottle in her hand. It settles on the desk with a soft thud. She’s still wearing her coat, the puffy material swishing as she plants her palms on the wood. “Where’s Gil?”</p>
<p>“Getting Edrisa,” the man himself says as he opens the door for their favorite medical examiner. </p>
<p>Edrisa is the most festive of all of them, even in her scrubs. Her ears are adorned with sparkly candy cane studs, her lab coat has a reindeer pin, and she smells vaguely of cinnamon. </p>
<p>Malcolm knows it’s from a candle she keeps in her office. </p>
<p>“It’s so great to see you guys,” she gushes. Although her clothes are clean and tidy, there are undeniable dark circles under her eyes, a bit of strain around her smile. She’s getting close to the end of her shift, but corpses aren’t in low supply during the holidays, and she’s clearly worked hard today. </p>
<p>“We have cake,” Malcolm offers with a smile. A little bit of sugar will perk her up for a bit. </p>
<p>“And sparkling grape juice,” Dani says, holding up the bottle, because Edrisa has to work yet, and both Gil and Dani have to drive. </p>
<p>Malcolm’s absolutely fine with that. He jumps up to his feet and pulls out the tumblers Gil keeps in his desk for particularly tough days. There are only four in the set, but he doesn’t mind sharing with one of his partners. </p>
<p>Dani cracks open the juice and pours a good amount into each cup, topping the last up with a bit more and handing that one off to Malcolm, who perches on the armrest of JT’s chair.</p>
<p>Sitting up, JT puts a hand on his waist. He waits for Malcolm to take a sip before he steals the glass for one of his own. </p>
<p>There’s cake, too, and Gil, thankfully, hasn’t forgotten. He pulls the top off of the container to reveal pre-sliced cranberry cake with a thick coat of white glaze. He holds the whole thing up for both his partners to take a slice, and then it finds its place on the desk next to Dani. The piece he grabs for himself is thin but drenched in glaze. He sinks his teeth into it, chasing it down with a swig of juice. </p>
<p>None of them bother to pretend they won’t talk about their work. The decapitation case comes up again, and they all chatter about it until the cake is gone and the juice is little more than a trickle in the bottom of the bottle. </p>
<p>Setting down her tumbler, Edrisa smiles brightly. “I should be getting back to work. See you all in a few days?”</p>
<p>“Hopefully,” Dani says, shrugging her jacket back on. </p>
<p>They all know it will be earlier if a big case comes through, and it’s more than likely one will.</p>
<p>Malcolm, JT, and Gil say their own goodbyes.</p>
<p>Then.</p>
<p>Then it’s <em>finally </em>time to go home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first thing they do is put the leftovers in the fridge. They were kept plenty cold in the car while the three of them were in the precinct. The full cake goes on the counter. </p>
<p>Although he’s dead tired now, Malcolm doesn’t let himself wander to their bedroom, doesn’t let himself fall face first into their bed, doesn’t let Gil and JT tug his clothes off until he can curl up between them and fall into a fitful sleep. Instead, he drags them over to the living room. He gently lifts their stockings off their hooks. “When I was a kid,” he says quietly, “my mother let me and Ainsley open one gift on Christmas Eve. I know Gil’s never done that before, but…”</p>
<p>JT leads him over to the couch and pulls him into his lap. “I’m good with that.” He glances over at Gil, who reaches out to take the stocking with his name on it.</p>
<p>“Of course, kid,” Gil says, warmth in his voice. “But you forgot one.” He grabs Malcolm’s stocking and joins them. </p>
<p>Malcolm is absolutely delighted to feel the weight of his, to know that they took the time to slip something in there. <em>Several </em>somethings, from the feel of it. “You two have to go first.” </p>
<p>JT kisses the crook of his neck before digging into his. </p>
<p>At nearly the same time, he and Gil pull out small, identical boxes. They’re dark red and palm-sized, held closed with gold ribbon. </p>
<p>Malcolm’s gaze shifts back and forth between the two of them. </p>
<p>They open the boxes. Despite outward appearances, the contents are different. Tucked inside Gil’s is a pacifier. Inside JT’s, a flat ceramic ornament — with a printing of what is unmistakably an ultrasound on it. There’s not much to see yet, since Malcolm had it rush ordered a few days ago after getting a scan done at roughly seven weeks along, but it’s not difficult to decipher what it’s supposed to be.</p>
<p>Gil cradles the pacifier in his palm, speechless. </p>
<p>The arm JT has around Malcolm tightens as his breath hitches. </p>
<p>The silence is killing Malcolm. “I promised I’d tell you tonight.”</p>
<p>JT snorts and buries his face in Malcolm’s neck. “Fuck, man, I thought you were thinking about seeing your crazy ass dad again.”</p>
<p>“I can safely say I won’t be for at least another seven months,” Malcolm says, relieved.</p>
<p>“Kid,” Gil croaks, and then he’s kneeling in front of the two of them, wrapping his arms around them the best he can, the pacifier crushed up against JT’s side. “We <em>will </em>be talking about your father later, but — I didn’t think it’d be this <em>soon</em>.”</p>
<p>“Neither did I.” Malcolm leans into him, into them both. “Merry Christmas?”</p>
<p>(His stocking is filled with candy. His favorites, to be exact. </p>
<p>He gets a little teary about it.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They end up in bed soon after. None of them want to let go of the other two, not now. They curl up together, Malcolm in the middle, limbs a tangle, JT and Gil leaving kisses and nips on every bit of exposed skin they can get to. Their hands overlap on his stomach as they cradle where their child rests unseen. </p>
<p>Malcolm squirms. “I need one of you to fuck me.”</p>
<p>“Just one?” Gil chuckles against his neck, hot puffs of air making Malcolm shiver.</p>
<p>“At least,” Malcolm insists. He can feel JT grin around his nipple, and he bucks his hips for any amount of friction he can get. “Please.”</p>
<p>Gil grabs the lube. It shouldn’t take long, but, instead of slicking Malcolm up fast and dirty, he rubs two wet fingertips up against his hole, tracing it, massaging. </p>
<p>JT cups Malcolm’s cock. He grazes his teeth against his nipple. </p>
<p>“I’m not —” His eyes shut as a thumb rubs along his cock. “— not fragile <em>now</em>.”</p>
<p>“We know,” JT says, lifting his head away from Malcolm’s chest, away from the stiff nipple shining with his spit. “Let us love you, baby.”</p>
<p>Malcolm swallows and nods.</p>
<p>Gil rewards him with the slow sink of his middle finger. “Good boy,” he murmurs.</p>
<p>Malcolm’s cock throbs in JT’s grip. JT returns his attention to his chest. </p>
<p>For what feels like minutes, hours, <em>years</em>, Gil moves his finger back and forth at an agonizing pace, pointedly not giving Malcolm what he’s aching for. But he’s not cruel. When Malcolm is able to hold back and just accept what he’s given, when he trembles but doesn’t demand, Gil gives him a second finger. </p>
<p>JT shifts his grip to actually wrap his hand around Malcolm’s cock now. </p>
<p>With a whine, Malcolm’s entire body jerks forward into his warm grip, spilling all over the bed between them. </p>
<p>Gil groans loud and long. “<em>Fuck</em>, kid. Gonna wring at least one more out of you.”</p>
<p>In front of him, JT looks all too pleased as he gently strokes Malcolm through the aftershocks. “Can you imagine how needy our boy will be once the hormones hit?”</p>
<p>“He’ll be insatiable,” Gil says, chuckling. </p>
<p>“He already is.” JT brings his hand to his mouth and licks a streak of come off. </p>
<p>Malcolm can’t say a word. He’s still coming down from his high, cock desperately trying to harden again even as it dribbles yet. He pants. His hole spasms when Gil gives him a third finger. </p>
<p>“Do you think he’s earned a little something more?” Gil says idly, grazing the edge of his prostate.</p>
<p>JT gives their partner a considering look. “Let me get him hard again first.” He moves down the bed and eases Malcolm’s softened cock into his mouth, cleaning any come off with his tongue, coaxing the twitches into something more. </p>
<p>“Can’t wait until you’re showing,” Gil murmurs across his ear. “It doesn’t matter whose kid it is; you’ll be so <em>big</em>.”</p>
<p>Malcolm shivers, gasps. “My shirts are already tighter.”</p>
<p>Gil’s teeth latch onto his lobe. He bites down just until it aches and then releases. “I’m surprised you hid it this long.”</p>
<p>JT pulls back on Malcolm’s hardening length, sinks back down. He’s not quite there yet, but it won’t be long now. </p>
<p>“I wanted to — <em>ah</em>. I wanted to tell you tonight.”</p>
<p>Gil shakes his head. “It was the perfect gift, city boy.” His fingers leave Malcolm’s hole now, leaving it clenching wetly around nothing. He grinds his hips against his ass instead. “You ready?” Gil is.</p>
<p>JT lets the cock slip from his mouth. “I’d say he is.” He jacks it once, twice. </p>
<p>“I am,” Malcolm cries out, body aching at the sudden lack of stimulation.</p>
<p>Reaching between them, Gil angles his cock until the head rests against Malcolm’s grasping hole. He’s in with a twitch of his hips. “That feel good?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>. Fuck me, Gil!”</p>
<p>JT thumbs at Malcolm’s slit as Gil rolls into him. “Tell me if you want my mouth again, baby.” </p>
<p>Malcolm groans at the tease. “God, please.” He <em>knows </em>Malcolm does. </p>
<p>With a chuckle, JT wraps his lips around the throbbing tip, sucks gently. Swipes his tongue across where he’s already weeping. He holds the base of Malcolm’s cock firm with his hand. </p>
<p>It’s <em>agony</em>. Gil moves so slow. He brushes up against Malcolm’s prostate every few thrusts, purposefully avoiding it every other time. “It’ll be harder to do this,” Gil grunts, “once you’re all swollen.” His hand rests along Malcolm’s stomach and just a few inches above where JT is bobbing his head in tiny increments. “Filled with our kid.”</p>
<p>And Malcolm can imagine it. Can imagine Gil’s hand curved around the swell of their child as he works his hips. Can imagine JT hidden beneath it, his mouth full of Malcolm’s cock. He moans at the image. </p>
<p>JT takes that as a sign, as permission to work faster. He sinks down to the root this time, shifting his hand down to cup Malcolm’s sack. He sucks and bobs and works his tongue against the slit until Malcolm cries out again, coming down his throat. </p>
<p>Gil fucks him through it. He fucks Malcolm until he’s limp with all the sensation, and then he groans and fills him with the first load of the night. “So good for us,” he says, laying kisses along his shoulders. “Think you could take JT yet?”</p>
<p>Malcolm nods weakly. His cock, so utterly spent, doesn’t even twitch, but he <em>wants </em>it. “Come on, JT.” </p>
<p>Together, his partners help shift him until his head is resting on Gil’s chest at an angle, his hip brushing up against him. Gil nuzzles his hair. JT parts his legs. </p>
<p>They all groan as JT sinks into his sloppy hole, some of Gil’s spend already leaking out around him. It’s all too easy to start up a rhythm. Wet sounds fill the room with every thrust. </p>
<p>Malcolm lies there, pliant and enjoying the thrum of pleasure even though his cock is barely hard now. </p>
<p>“That’s it, baby,” JT grunts. “Can’t wait to fuck you like this in a few months. Can’t wait to see you all filled out.”</p>
<p>Gil runs a hand through Malcolm’s hair. “You’ll be so beautiful.”</p>
<p>Malcolm shuts his eyes, flushing bright red. “I love you both,” he says, voice thin, overwhelmed. </p>
<p>“Love you, too.” Gil tilts his head up with a gentle hand. </p>
<p>Putting a hand on Malcolm’s tender cock, JT’s rhythm becomes erratic. “Fuck, I love you, baby.”</p>
<p>Malcolm whines. Another orgasm hits him, this one weak, nothing more than a dribbling of come, his hole fluttering around JT, who groans and spills into him with thick spurts. </p>
<p>They curl up together until they feel too gross, and then, after a rushed shower, they drop into bed as one unit and sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Malcolm wakes up when Gil slips out of bed. His eyes feel glued shut, and he brings a hand up to rub at them. </p>
<p>JT, ever ready to get up at the slightest of sounds, grumbles and tugs him closer. “Let him make breakfast,” he says into Malcolm’s hair. </p>
<p>The buttery smell of pancakes wafts in through the open door at some point. It’s a special breakfast, something that Gil actually manages to put his foot down about when it comes to Malcolm, because he insists they start the day with a decent amount of protein. (And no, making protein pancakes instead is not what he means. Though they do have those sometimes, because Gil isn’t <em>that </em>good at saying no.) It rouses the two of them. They wander out to the kitchen, JT’s arm heavy around Malcolm. He hasn’t let go of him since seeing the ornament. </p>
<p>Gil slides the spatula between a pancake and the griddle and flips it. He gives them a sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas.”</p>
<p>Squeezing JT’s hand, Malcolm pulls away from him for the first time in hours just to bury his face in Gil’s back. “Merry Christmas,” he says, muffled against skin. </p>
<p>There’s a clatter as JT pulls out plates and silverware. He drops a kiss on the crown of Malcolm’s head as he passes with three glasses in hand. “Don’t forget we’re heading out to visit my family in two hours.” For gifts and brunch and probably a lot of leftovers shoved onto them. Specifically on Malcolm, and even more if they decided to share the news of his pregnancy already. </p>
<p>They’ll have to eat and dress first. In time. Now, they sit at the kitchen island, shoulders pushed up against each other, and eat — as a family. </p>
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